


Corsair

by Mackenzie_Verdion



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, First attempt at accents, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, No Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-08-12 11:24:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7932814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mackenzie_Verdion/pseuds/Mackenzie_Verdion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Everything will be better in London"</p><p>At least that's what Eren Jaeger had been telling his sister for the past three years. However life on the streets barely brought in enough food let alone the money to pay for a train ticket all the way from the West Coast of England.<br/>That is of course, until an unexpected windfall turns the two's fantasy into grim reality. The streets of London are not paved with gold and definitely do not provide the instant fix-all that Eren had been desperately dreaming of.<br/>And yet, could that chance encounter with that... unconventional... raven-haired gent make it all worth it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on a prompt I read quite some time ago about your OTP meeting on a long train journey. It was intended to be a one-shot initially but I couldn't quite work out how to wrap it up and then more ideas happened, so it became a multi-chapter fic instead.

The moment we stepped onto the platform it was like walking into a dreamworld; the sounds of people chattering and doors being opened or slammed shut, the scent of smoke in the air wafting from the large steam engine idling as it waited patiently for its passengers to finish boarding or alighting After all our waiting, finally being here just felt so surreal.  
I pulled my gaze away from the sights of the busy station when I noticed Mikasa step forward, her attention solely set on the locomotive.  
My sister rarely showed much emotion anymore; she'd pretty much locked them all inside since my mother's death three years ago, but those eyes hid nothing from me. I could tell from the gleam in those dark ebony orbs that her mood matched the goofy grin I couldn't keep off my own face.  
And it was easy to see why.  
The engine had a simple colour scheme; the standard forest green livery that identified all trains run by Great Western Railway, and I followed it's length until my eyes rested on the decorative black and gold plate which gave its name as 'Corsair'. The late autumn sunlight broke through the clouds and now glinted off the engine's paintwork, giving it an ethereal appearance befitting of our own personal Holy Grail. Even the plume gently billowing from the funnel felt like it was welcoming us after all our struggles.  
I admit it, I was getting sickeningly sentimental about this machine.  
I grabbed Mikasa's hand, pulling her along the platform past the ornately decorated carriages until we found a fairly vacant coach in third class; as much as I wanted to stare at the engine a little longer, it wouldn't do to miss our ride now.  
It wasn't until we were settled into an empty compartment; choosing seats opposite each other so we could both see out the window as the train started to move off, that I broke our awed silence.  
"See? I tol' yer we'd make it!" I stated, happily.  
"Eren, we're not in London yet," Mikasa murmured in response, gently brushing down what had once been a charming pale blue dress before time and circumstance had torn and soiled it.  
"Don' ruin th'moment," I replied with mock irritation. She'd always been the level-headed one; we were still a long way from our destination and there was no guarantee the train journey would go smoothly, but I was just too excited at the achievement of even getting this far to worry about the unknown.  
Well, that and I was feeling a bit too light-headed right now to think on it.  
The two of us had been living on the streets since Mum had died. We'd had another option, but this was the only way that would keep the two of us together. Boys and girls are always separated at those orphanages and since Mikasa and I aren't actually blood related, chances are we would never see each other again if we stayed put. So we ran. All we had left was each other and we were willing to go through Hell to avoid losing each other if that's what it came to.  
And we _had_ gone through Hell!  
I don't think I need to explain the obvious hardships of being homeless. Any pride or morals you had get abandoned pretty quickly when your own survival is at stake. We found ourselves lowered to bin raiding and pickpocketing.  
It was during our first winter that we first considered finding our way to London; everything we heard about the city seemed to scream opportunity and my twelve year old mind was convinced that if we could just get there everything would be alright. We could get back on our feet and everything would get better.  
It was just a fantasy back then but it kept me going; I kept talking about it, putting some of the money we stole towards these tickets. Even though at the back of my mind of my mind I knew it was a futile effort, I let myself get lost in this pipedream. If I didn't I was at risk of breaking and I couldn't do that to Mikasa; she'd gone through enough shit, sharing the pain of losing my parents as well as her own. She didn't need to have to look after me on top of all that.  
Mikasa never shared my enthusiasm, but she never questioned my obsession, never pointed out the many flaws in my plans or suggested I use the money I was collecting for food or clothing instead. I think she realised that was my coping method. However, after a couple of years even _I_ was starting to feel disillusioned. Eventually I just stopped talking about it altogether, though I was unable to kick the habit of collecting for it. It had become some sort of security blanket by that point.  
As it happened our lucky break showed up yesterday in the form of some poor gullible fool with more money than sense.  
Pickings had been thin on the ground lately so I'd wandered out into the town itself in search of food or money to steal - I may have abandoned a lot of my pride but I still wouldn't resort to begging, not even after this long. A lot of the regular crowd had gotten wise to me by now and many gave me a wide berth, but there were still unsuspecting newcomers - shoppers from outside of town with pockets full of cash they were looking to spend.  
I'd gotten quite good at being able to tell the tourists from the locals and it was the tourists that that became my target; tending to be the least guarded.  
What I hadn't been expecting was the well-dressed fellow who'd approached me looking for a shop selling a particular item. I had no clue what it actually was he was looking for, but for the heck of it I told him I'd sell it to him cheaper than any of the shops could. It was cheeky, it was risky and I hadn't expected it to work but to my surprise this guy was a complete dunce.  
He actually stood there and waited for me to come back after giving me the money and, for a brief moment as I scarpered, my conscience very nearly forced me to back track, return the cash and apologise profusely. That was until I realised I'd subconsciously asked for the very amount I was missing from my savings.  
And that brings me to the reason for my lightheadedness; there was just enough spare to buy Mikasa an apple, but as hungry as I was I wasn't about to let her share it with me. It was a stupid move really given that it had been a couple of days since I'd eaten last and we never knew when we would next be able to, but in that moment I was so elated that I just wanted to do something nice for her.  
That's not what I told Mikasa however. I'd lied, telling her I'd eaten on the way back. She accepted my answer but like any lie I made I'm pretty sure she saw right through it. This much was evident from the brief look of concern she shot my way once the novelty of the moving scenery had started to wear off. I avoided eye contact, choosing instead to focus on what was going on outside the window, but that didn't prove to be any better an idea when the passing landscape combined with the motion of the train caused my eyelids to droop.  
I leant against the window and closed my eyes, allowing the train to gently lull me to sleep.  
I'm not sure just how long I dozed for, but when I woke up I discovered Mikasa hadn't been able to keep her eyes open either. I also discovered my stomach was no longer being so forgiving about the fact that nothing had been put in it for a couple of days and the hunger pangs were making me restless.  
I stood up and slid the compartment door open.  
"Eren?" Mikasa asked; the sound of the door must've woken her.  
"There's a dinin' car somewhere on th' train. I'm goin' te see if I kin get anythin'," I explained. I didn't need to go into details, she knew exactly what I meant by that.  
"Be careful Eren, we can't risk you getting thrown off the train," she warned and I couldn't fault her for being worried. It wasn't like I could easily get away and hide if I screwed this up. All the same, the thought of food being so close was too tempting for my dizzy mind to pass up. I gave her a confident smile.  
"I'll be awrigh'. I'm a professional now."  
Mikasa didn't reply but pulled the scarlet scarf around her neck up to cover her nose and mouth; a habit I'd noticed she was only prone to when she was unsettled.  
I stepped out into the corridor, sliding the door shut behind me before I thought out my next move.  
First things first, I needed to locate the dining car. There was unlikely to be one at the Third Class end of the train, which meant that I would need to wander into First Class.  
Let's face it, I didn't exactly exude a First Class demeanour. Once upon a time maybe; my father had been a doctor before his mysterious disappearance - an incredible doctor - and as a result I'd grown up in fairly comfortable surroundings with a decent education, but now to look at me all you would see was the tattered, filthy clothes that screamed 'this kid lives on the streets'. I couldn't imagine I smelt too pleasant either, though I was so used to that by now I couldn't smell it myself.  
Naturally, I attracted a few stares when I stepped into the carriage full of ladies and gentlemen swathed in rather expensive looking attire, but thankfully nobody paid me any mind past disapproving glances.  
That's when I made a stupid mistake. I blame the lack of food for the lack of thought I exhibited in that moment, but when I saw so many people standing by the bar the kleptomaniac in me just sort of kicked in and I found myself surreptitiously scouring for a target. I just couldn't let this opportunity pass me by! I rarely - if ever - ended up in the presence of so many of the upper-class at once and I felt like a child in a sweet shop.  
I found myself drawn to one man in particular; a short fellow with dark ebony hair which fell over the left side of his face in a long fringe. In contrast the back of his hair was shaved short in a way that I hadn't seen before, yet it seemed to work for this man.  
Like all the other well-to-do gentlemen he wore a black suit with a white dress shirt, yet he still managed to stand out from the crowd by wearing the jacket draped over his shoulders and by complementing the outfit with a fancy white cravat.  
I'm not sure what it was that drew me to this vertically-challenged male, but I just couldn't take my eyes off him. He exuded confidence and power; I got the feeling anyone stupid enough to mess with him never did so twice. Somehow that sent a jolt of excitement through me. Stealing from this man felt like a challenge and for the first time I felt compelled to take it up as though I had something to prove rather than for the sake of survival.  
Yeah, I was definitely not thinking clearly.  
I waited for the opportune moment to strike; he was engrossed in conversation with a much taller, impossibly attractive gentleman with short slicked-back blond hair under an expensive looking top hat. This man's attire matched the more conventional fashion but somehow he still managed to stand out just as much as his shorter companion by his mere presence alone. All the same he didn't draw my attention quite as strongly as his colleague and despite not taking his eyes off the blond I couldn't help but notice the raven-haired man's face hadn't changed from the plain, almost bored expression.  
I passed close to him, making out I was reading the drinks menu while I slipped my hand into his pocket and silently congratulated myself when it returned to my own with what felt like a leather wallet in tow. Picking pockets was always a game of roulette; if you couldn't get anything on the first try you were out of luck. Unless you wanted to increase the risk of getting caught.  
Now I just had to calmly and inconspicuously move away and-  
"Excuse me, Young Man. May I see your ticket?"  
I won't lie; I jumped when the ticket inspector spoke. I had been so engrossed with the task at hand that I hadn't even noticed him approaching. I prayed he hadn't seen my activities as I fumbled around in my pocket for the ticket; a task made surprisingly more difficult considering that I was sure the eyes of my target were now on me.  
Eventually I managed to produce the small piece of card and handed it over to the tall uniformed gentleman, waiting for the obvious impending statement.  
"This is a third class ticket, Son," he continued. I responded by tilting my head to the side slightly and forced a puzzled expression onto my face. All he could do was shoo me back to the relevant end of the train, but it wouldn't hurt to play dumb anyway. Thankfully my act was convincing enough to fool him. Either that or he was just playing along to avoid causing a scene.  
"This is the First Class section," he explained.  
"Oh... OH!" I replied, as though the realisation had just hit me. "I'm sorry, Sir! I'll leave righ' now." With another hasty apology I turned and made my way back down the train, avoiding looking at anyone on the way. Running into the inspector prevented me from continuing to the food counter, but it gave me a reason to exit in a hurry without attracting suspicion. I'd just have to endure the hollow ache in my stomach for a while longer.  
It wasn't until I stepped back into our carriage that I released a breath I hadn't been aware I was holding.  
I took a moment to regain my bearings; it wouldn't do to go back to Mikasa in this unsettled state. She would immediately know I messed up and, while I knew she wouldn't scold me about it, she would still be upset. Her silence was somehow worse than an argument.  
The carriage door opened behind me but I didn't pay it much heed; other people walked along the train after all. I probably should've done. Then I wouldn't have been scared out of my skin when that hand landed on my shoulder.  
I didn't look behind me, but somehow I had a fair idea who it might be.  
"I think you may have picked up something of mine." I felt a chill run up my spine at the sound of his voice; deep and impassive, yet with undeniable threatening undertones that almost made me want to run in fear.  
I had two choices; come clean and risk this man reporting me or deny everything and pray on the miniscule chance that I might be able to pull off a miraculous bluff.  
Screw it! I was already in deep trouble, what did I have to lose?  
"I'm no' sure wha' yer mean, Sir." I didn't turn to look at him, not trusting myself to keep the nervous expression off my face. Just a shame my voice refused to sound as confident as I would like.  
It was clear my weak bluff wasn't fooling this fellow the moment his grip tightened on my shoulder, and the force with which he swung me around and slammed me against the compartment wall knocked all the breath out of me.  
"Don't fuck with me, Brat," he threatened, once again getting his point across strongly while still able to keep his voice calm enough to avoid attracting attention.  
Had I not already had my own words stolen by the impact, I would have been rendered speechless by the the kind language this aristocrat was using in public.  
I looked down at him; there had to be at least four inches in height between us, but even so I wasn't in good shape. I suspected however that even if I was, I still wouldn't have been able to take this guy in a fight.  
He stared at me through steely grey eyes and I found myself staring straight back, lost in the storm contained within them.  
I must've been staring for a while because he clicked his fingers in front of my face.  
"Oi, anybody in there?"  
"Uh, yeah," I finally found my voice, though I couldn't manage to raise it more than a whisper.  
"I know you're not as stupid as you made yourself out to be back there, Kid," he continued, leaning in closer, "so do both of us a favour and not make this any more difficult than it has to be."  
I stared back at him defiantly while I tried to sort out my confused mind; somehow the closer this fellow was the more muddled I became.  
Eventually sense started to return to me. My stupid pride wasn't doing me any favours. I took a risk and I got caught; continuing to plead ignorance at this point would just look foolish.  
I released a defeated sigh and reached into my pocket, pulling out the brown, leather wallet. As I passed it over I could now see the intricate design embossed onto the front; the shape of two overlapping wings over a shield. I briefly wondered whether the design had any significance before the wallet was removed from my hand and my attention snapped back to the fellow's face, ready to face my fate - whatever it was going to be.  
To my surprise, the intensity in his eyes softened as he released me from his grip and returned the wallet to his own pocket. He looked me over and all at once my hot temper began to return. I recognised the look that had settled in his eyes. I'd seen it so many times over the past three years. Pity.  
I looked away.  
"So, wha's gonna 'appen now?" I asked, settling my attention on a scrap of paper some passenger had discarded onto the floor. The suspense was becoming unbearable.  
"What are you talking about?"  
"Yer gonna turn me in righ'?" I chanced another glance at the man to find his expression hadn't changed.  
"I should..." He started, a hint of thought crossing his otherwise expressionless face, "...but you look like you have enough to deal with." He held out a small paper bag decorated with the GWR logo towards me. It didn't take a genius to guess what lay within that folded package.  
“'ow kin yer know wha' I hav te deal wiv?!” I snapped. I should've been grateful for this fellow's generosity; he had every right to get me removed from the train at the next station. Heck, he had every right to just kick me out of the moving carriage immediately! However my stupid pride reasserted itself with a vengance. I hated people looking down on me. Pitying me. Trying to make out that they understood my situation when in actuality they didn't have a clue what it felt like to lose everything. “I don' need yer charity!" I added in a low mumble. I looked away again, unable to hold his gaze a moment longer.  
I don't know how I expected him to react to my little outburst, but I certainly wasn't prepared when he placed his hand onto my jaw and gently turned my head to face him.  
If my thoughts were clouded merely by his proximity, then the moment his fingers made contact with my skin it felt like a jolt of electricity shot through me. I found myself unable to take more than a shallow breath and I swear the aristocrat would have to be deaf not to hear my heart hammering away in my chest.  
As if he was purposely trying to destroy every last shred of composure I possessed, he leaned in close - or as close as he could get at his height.  
"Just take it, Kid. I don't have all day and you look like you'll faint if you don't get some food inside you soon." He moved away, holding out the bag once again and carefully shaking it twice to emphasise what he was demanding me to do.  
This time I took it without hesitation; my anger completely quashed by this point.  
The minute the bag left his hand he turned on his heel without waiting for so much as a 'thank you' and purposefully strode back out of the carriage.  
I didn't move for a little while after I heard the door click shut; I didn't dare try. I just didn't trust my legs to take the effort of standing without the support of the wall.  
It felt as if someone had replaced them with jelly and I wasn't entirely sure hunger was to blame...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Carriages on the GWR in 1896 were fitted with connecting doors as mentioned in the fic, however they were blocked to general passenger use and were solely to allow the guard to move from one end of the train to the other.  
> However, that would've made Eren's little escapade somewhat difficult.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spent the whole day traveling on a preserved railway line, hoping to catch some Pokemon, but my phone refused to connect to the internet. So I finished editing chapters 2 and 3 instead.

Mikasa looked up the moment I slid the compartment door open and I caught the questioning glance she shot my way as I sat down, the bag forgotten on the seat beside me. I barely even acknowledged her as I stared out of the window; my thoughts too preoccupied with eyes of tarnished silver and a voice capable of making me shudder just by recalling it.  
"What happened?" My sister pulled me out of my reverie with her question. I glanced over at her.  
"Nothin'," I sighed. I wasn't doing a very good job of acting like it, but I was just too emotionally drained to put any effort in.  
"You're distracted. What's wrong?"  
"Nothin'!" I repeated. Knowing Mikasa that answer wasn't going to satisfy her, so I scrabbled for a good excuse to add. "I'm jus' tired. It's bin a busy day ain' it?" She seemed to accept this, or at the very least she ceased to question me about my jaunt along the train. I wasn't sure I liked the turn the conversation took next however.  
"It would probably have helped if you'd actually eaten something last night." Mikasa's tone remained calm as always, but I couldn't miss the passive-aggressive snipe. The image of the man from the first class carriage entered my mind again. They were far too similar.  
"I did!"  
"I know you lied, Eren Jaeger," Mikasa scolded, "I'm not an idiot." I sighed.  
"Okay, okay. I lied," I admitted finally, raising my hands to indicate she could stop her accusations now, "but if I -had- bought meself something we wouldn've had enough fer the tickets." I tried to justify my decision, but naturally Mikasa had an answer to everything.  
"We could've shared that apple."  
"Yeah, but-"  
"Just because you're male, it doesn't mean you have to be a gentleman all the time," she explained calmly, anticipating my next words. "It's not going to hurt me to share an apple."  
I couldn't think of an appropriate response; despite what she'd gone through she still looked after me more often than I would care to admit. She always had my back; deterring me from making rash decisions, putting up with my temper, jumping to my aid if I got into trouble with a particularly aggressive mark. She didn't even complain once about my obsession.  
However by social standards I should be the one providing for her and it still stung every time I couldn't.  
Eventually Mikasa concluded I wasn't going to speak.  
"I'm worried about you," she admitted.  
"'ey I'm worried 'bout you too, but we've always made it, ain't we?"  
"That's not what I mean, Eren." It looked like Mikasa had something more to say but was conflicted on whether or not to continue. A part of me wanted to ask her to go on; whatever it was she had to say needed to get out in the open. But I didn't. There was another part of me that was just too tired to handle a feelings talk right now, no matter how hard the sensible side was telling me this would hurt later down the line.  
Mikasa had apparently come to the same conclusion and opted not to elaborate on her comment. As a result an uneasy silence descended on our compartment, broken only by the clickity-clack of the train wheels.  
I couldn't stand this. I hated being at odds with Mikasa; especially given how happy this moment _should_ be.  
"Mikasa..." I started, maintaining eye contact while I paused. "We're goin' t'London, Mikasa." I accompanied my random comment with a grin which only widened in confoundment when I received a smile in return. It was only small, but my heart lifted at the sight of it. I had been starting to think such an expression would never grace my sister's face ever again.  
But as soon as it had appeared it was gone again, replaced once more by her usual flat, unemotional look. Her attention shifted to the seat beside me.  
"So are you going to tell me what's in the bag or not?" She asked, looking back up at me. Somehow in recalling the way my body turned to putty in that man's hands, his gift had completely fallen from my memory.  
Not even knowing myself, I didn't answer her as I unfolded the neatly closed top.  
Sitting at the bottom of the paper package lay a sandwich; a cheese sandwich, I concluded upon removing it and depositing the bag back on the seat. Mikasa looked impressed.  
"How did you manage to get that?" She asked. I got the feeling she hadn't expected me to come back with anything at all. I couldn't blame her; I hadn't really been that confident of success either.  
"It's... uh... a long story," I replied, breaking the sandwich in half and offering one to her which she took eagerly.  
"I think we have time, Eren," she replied, a tinge of sarcasm to her voice. She had a point; trains had gotten faster over the years, but it would still take a few hours to get to our destination.  
I had no excuse left in my reserve, so I took a large bite of my sandwich half instead in a bid to delay explaining. Unfortunately I couldn't chew indefinitely and eventually I had to swallow.  
"Eren," Mikasa stated, stressing my name with the tone of a mother about to scold her child.  
"I go' caught pickin' someone's pocket," I admitted finally.  
"Eren, I told you to be careful!" And just like that the atmosphere we had cleared but a moment ago returned, only this time I could see fear mingled with the concern in her eyes. I couldn't blame her; neither one of us were particularly willing to go back to that hellhole of an orphanage. There was always a risk of that if the police got involved.  
"We're fine, Mikasa," I reassured "'e was surprisingly aight 'bout it after I gave 'is wallet back" I trailed off as the short man's face entered my mind again. It felt like a bunch of caterpillars had pupaed inside my stomach and had now all suddenly emerged as butterflies that fluttered around, desperately searching for a way out.  
I needed to get this guy out of my head!  
"'e gave me th' sandwich," I added once I'd regained my focus. Mikasa relaxed a little.  
"That was nice of him," she stated, resuming eating her own half of the sandwich. 'Nice' was an understatement. In this situation - where pretty much the whole of Britain looked down on us as nothing more than thieving squatters - it was a downright miracle.  
Maybe that's why he kept invading my thoughts like this.  
Silence descended on us once again, only this time it was comfortable; a silence born of simply running out of things to say.  
Now my stomach actually had some proper food to work on I found myself slowly falling back into that restful slumber. However it felt like I'd barely dozed off again before I was awoken to Mikasa roughly shaking me  
"Wha...?" I asked, drowsily. Sleep was still pulling at the corners of my mind and it was a struggle to escape it.  
"We're here, Eren," she said bluntly. That single statement jolted me fully awake more effectively than any amount of shaking could have, and I followed after her eagerly.  
The station was a bustle of activity, so much more so than the station at what had one been our home.  
Of course, this was Paddington station, or so the various signs told me. I already knew about Paddington; it was a major point of entry to London from the west side of the country, which explained the sheer amount of people milling to and from the waiting trains.  
A strong smell of smoke tainted the air from the idling locomotives and I had to suppress a cough as Mikasa lead me through the crowd to the main exit.  
Once again we were subject to more than a few looks of disgust. Nothing new there then. I wasn't paying attention anyway, being too preoccupied with searching for that raven-haired shorty.  
I was out of luck it seemed and I wasn't about to ask Mikasa to let me hang around to look for someone who, in all likelihood, wouldn't want anything more to do with me.  
Why was that thought bothering me so much?  
Before I had time to dwell on the reason we had reached the exit and suddenly I had something more pressing to stew over.  
I don't know what I'd imagined my first view of London would be, but I'm pretty sure the sheer level of noise would not have been a part of that image. Horses trotting to and fro created an almost deafening din from the clatter of metal horseshoes connecting with the cobbled road beneath them, and the rumble of cartwheels only added to the racket.  
Then there was the smell. The air was filled with the malodorous scent of manure; an unfortunate byproduct of so many horses being gathered in one place.  
All in all this was not the image of hope that my fantasy had promised us and I was starting to realise that I hadn't a clue what to do now.  
Once again it was Mikasa who decided our next move. She took my hand and lead me across the road, weaving in and out of the passing equines while additionally aiming to avoid the aforementioned piles of crap dotted about the place.  
We didn't stop until we'd slunk discreetly into the nearest secluded alleyway. That's when I finally regained control of my vocal chords.  
"So, we're 'ere..." I wasn't sure exactly where I was planning to take that sentence however.  
"We're here," Mikasa agreed. She didn't add to her comment either, choosing just to watch me intently. She was clearly waiting for me to announce the next step of my great plan but I had nothing. I hadn't planned this far ahead, naively tricking myself into thinking everything would just fall into place once we got here. Instead my mind was a complete blank and the longer she stood in silence the harder it became to maintain eye contact.  
This was my idea, my -dream- to get us here. Everything was supposed to be better but it was starting to sink in that our situation hadn't changed at all. All we'd achieved was to move about 80 miles or so to the east. In fact we were slightly worse off, given that we didn't have any kind of shelter anymore.  
"Eren," Mikasa started finally, "let's go. We need to find some cover." She squeezed my hand reassuringly. It was as though she could tell I was starting to fret.  
I followed without argument as she guided me further down the dark, deserted alley towards the backstreets.  
We hadn't walked very far before the sound of multiple footsteps reached our ears. The hurried tapping echoed off the walls of the quiet alley, making it difficult to pinpoint exactly which direction it was coming from. Whoever it was, they were running fast. _Towards_ us.  
I didn't think much of it at first; other kids probably playing, nothing unusual. At least that was until we saw the flash of blond hair rush past the end of the alley ahead of us, closely followed by three more people, two of a much larger size from what we could see from the short view we were given.  
It could still have been teens playing games, yet that was looking increasingly unlikely at this point. It seemed Mikasa had come to the exact same conclusion when we both broke into a run, as though listening to the the same silent order. As we rounded the corner the situation became a lot clearer.  
The blond figure who had first passed was now backed up against the wall, surrounded by a group of three teens. We could tell now that the cornered party was a meek-looking male. His blond hair fell to just below his chin, curved to frame a face that would've been cute if it wasn't currently twisted into an expression of pure terror. In his hands he clutched a loaf of bread as though it was a precious treasure.  
On the flip side his aggressors were made up of two tall males and one shorter female.  
The shorter of the two guys; also a blond but with his hair cropped quite short, stood before the petrified boy with arms crossed and wearing a scowl that practically screamed 'Don't fuck with me'. On the flip side his taller companion stood further back. He wore his darker hair slightly longer than the shorter male and his entire stance told me that he was less than comfortable with this situation. I was willing to bet he wasn't about to step in and stop it however.  
The third of the group also stood back. She was much shorter than her comrades; shorter than myself even, and she wore her blonde hair tied up in a messy bun. Unlike the other two she seemed completely disinterested, as though she was only along for the ride and nothing more.  
Judging by the tattered state of their clothing the three of them looked like they were in the same sort of situation Mikasa and myself were, even of it did look like they ate a little better than we did and had access to a pair of scissors.  
Even so three against one wasn't fair and I wasn't about to stand back and watch the poor kid get the shit beaten out of him.  
Before Mikasa could even -think- about trying to stop me I impulsively jumped to his aid.  
"'EY!" I yelled, aiming to redirect their attention away from their victim and onto me instead. "LEAVE 'IM A-"  
I was slammed into the ground so fast I barely even registered what had happened until the pain broke though my initial shock. Somewhere in my daze I vaguely heard my name and I sat up to find Mikasa standing between me and the girl; the latter having assumed a defensive stance, arms raised in fists ready to protect herself from retaliation. It didn't take a genius to guess she was the one who'd floored me.  
Her fighting skills were comparable to Mikasa's own and, judging by the rage I could practically feel rolling off my sister in waves, there was about to be one hell of a fight. Nobody messed with Mikasa's brother.  
"W-wait!" Before either of the girls were able to take the first move a nervous voice piped up, wobbling noticeably with the struggle its owner was having keeping it audible. The boy we had been attempting to save stood forward, holding the loaf as far out towards the shorter of the two guys as possible. "P-please just take it! Don't hurt 'em!"  
Despite his best efforts, he was still unable to utter more than a high-pitched squeak. It caught his pursuers attention regardless.  
I was surprised to find the other blond male's expression soften as he gently took the loaf from the boy's hands.  
Wordlessly the three of them turned to leave, confident they'd made their point without needing to say anything at all. But I wasn't about to stand for that. I couldn't just let them leave after threatening someone for simply trying to survive. Maybe I was just taking it personally with my own capture so fresh in my mind, but I was enraged.  
I struggled to my feet, fighting to keep myself steady; the stars that had clouded my vision earlier may have cleared, but the dizziness still lingered at the edges. Mikasa's hand was gripping my shoulder firmly before I could decide how to express my anger and she gently shook her head when I faced her to question her action. She'd always run to my aid if I got into trouble, but she would rather keep me out of that trouble in the first place. Still she couldn't stop me running my mouth off.  
"Do tha' make yer feel powerful?!" I demanded unable to keep the accusatory tone from tainting my voice. "Do yer get a kick outta threatening people smaller than yers?!"  
The two guys passed me by; paying me no heed whatsoever, but the girl fixed me with a cold, hard stare.  
"This don't have anythin' to do with power," she stated bluntly, the tone in her London accent conveying the same detachment as her expression. "We're all just tryin' to survive in a world that wants us dead. I would've thought you'd understand that." She followed her companions without waiting for a response. I had been about to yell at her anyway, point out that it couldn't hurt them to at least share, but Mikasa preempted me with a sharp bark of my name. I settled with just glaring daggers at their backs until they were out of sight instead.  
"Are you alright?" I heard Mikasa ask, but it wasn't me she was talking to.  
"Y-yeah, thank you." The boy sounded slightly more confident now, though when I turned my attention to him I could see he still wasn't comfortable keeping eye contact.  
"Some prats need te grow some bloody compassion," I complained, walking over to where he stood with my sister. I hadn't expected him to look so mortified at my comment.  
"N-no!" He snapped suddenly, eyes widening as though he was just as baffled by his outburst as I was. He collected himself to continue in a slightly calmer tone. "No, it was my own fault. I should have known better than to steal from them."  
"Who are they anyway?" Mikasa asked, cutting me off before I had a chance to question his defending them.  
"Reiner, Bertoldt and Annie," he explained, "nobody messes with them. Should've known better."  
"That don' excuse 'em," I huffed.  
"You're not from around here are ya?"  
I paused. I guess the west country accent was a bit of a giveaway.  
"It's a dog eat dog world for people like us here," he continued when I didn't respond. My expression alone must've confirmed his suspicions. "There's strength in numbers but the more you got, the more you gotta feed. You don't get the luxury of compassion for outsiders."  
I had no response for that. It's true where we had been living was a high class area with a low population, and homeless kids were very, very few. I had no idea of the sheer number of children suffering the same fate in London.  
"What's your name?" Mikasa asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence caused by my own ignorance.  
"Armin Arlert."  
"I'm Mikasa Ackerman," She introduced herself, "and this impetuous idiot is Eren Jaeger."  
I was so surprised by how talkative Mikasa was suddenly being that I almost missed the insult in the introduction.  
"Mikasa!" I protested when the realisation hit. She chose not to acknowledge my complaint while Armin simply released a quiet chuckle to which I responded with a whine of "don' encourage 'er!"  
The cheerfulness didn't last long before his downcast expression took over once again. For a moment I worried if I'd said the wrong thing until I realised he was actually working up the courage to say something.  
"Um..." He started, looking down at his hands while picking at his fingernails. "D-do you think I could... Y'know..." It was painful watching Armin struggle with his words when it was all too clear what he wanted to ask. I took him firmly by the wrist and gently tugged him along with me. I didn't know where I was going, but we still had to find somewhere to crash for the night if it was even possible.  
"It's aight," I stated, knowing Mikasa would have no reservations over this "it'll 'elp 'aving someone oo knows their way 'round anyway."  
Armin promptly jerked his hand back out of my grip and this time I knew I'd said something wrong.  
"I-I'm sorry, but I don't know much about this area." He said it like he was delivering devastating news, like he was afraid we would get angry and ditch him.  
At the same time he looked like he'd been homeless for some time, being in much the same condition as ourselves.  
"Yer no' from 'round 'ere?" I questioned; he'd seemed so streetwise earlier.  
"Sorta. I was born here but..." He hesitated with his next sentence, "m-my parents sold me to a workhouse..."  
Armin didn't add anymore details to that; he didn't need to. I'd heard rumours about the terrible working conditions in those places; even living on the streets was preferable to that fate. I remember feeling relieved that I had a loving family who wouldn't do that to me. It was easy to forget about them after that since workhouses weren't exactly something that came up in normal conversation - or even newspapers for that matter.  
Out of sight out of mind as they say.  
"I escaped last night so I don't know my way around. I-I'm sorry, I'm not of any use to you."  
"So we work it out together," Mikasa stated.  
"Yeah, it's no' like we've 'aven't done it before," I added my contribution "now come on, let's fin' somewhere 'fore we have to sleep out in th' open." Armin remained silent, but the look in his striking sapphire eyes told me that he was dumbstruck by the fact that we still wanted him, even if he couldn't show us the way around.  
_What has this kid been through to possess that kind of thought process?_ I wasn't sure I really wanted to know.  
"T-thank you!" Armin broke his own silence finally with such a genuine tone of gratitude that my heart melted. I could tell Mikasa was feeling the same.  
I merely smiled and answered him with a nod, motioning for both him and Mikasa to follow me.  
I was ready to take the lead again. I had no idea where I was going, but standing around wasn't going to get anything done.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadly chapter 4 might not be uploaded as quickly as these past chapters have been as it's still in the process of being written. Hopefully though if I can get my motivation together it shouldn't take too long.

The moment that boy stepped into the carriage I knew he was going to be trouble.  
The scruffy, tattered shirt that looked like it had been white once upon a time, the equally filthy taupe waistcoat and dark mahogany trousers. He must have known he would stick out like a sore thumb amongst the many high-class aristocrats dressed in their expensive garb.  
Judging by his gaunt frame however, he was probably too hungry to care. He certainly didn't look all that steady on his pins either.  
"Levi?" I looked back up at my taller companion and from the tone of his voice I gathered he'd already sussed out what had drawn my attention away from our conversation. He was questioning what I was planning to do about it.  
"I need to borrow some change," I stated bluntly, "I seem to have found myself short all of a sudden."  
Erwin gave me a nod of acknowledgment and handed over the change, not even pausing to vocalise his curiosity. He trusted me to know what I was doing. Either that or he was just so used to my stubborn attitude that he knew I wouldn't tell him anyway.  
I was grateful. I wasn't particularly thrilled with the idea of voicing my intentions aloud. I had a reputation for being cold and unapproachable, and I wasn't ready to deal with the surprised comments I knew I would receive.  
Not to mention that the kind of passengers in this carriage would've thought me daft for even entertaining this idea. Naturally there was no love lost between the higher classes and the "Thieving Street Rats".  
To be honest I may have been the same had I been raised under the same circumstances as everyone else here, but I knew what was running through the kid's mind. I knew the desperation that came with poverty. As illegal as theft was I couldn't fault him for it.  
How twisted; the wealthy, who carried themselves as polite and fair, wouldn't give the boy the time of day. Meanwhile I had spent my entire life convincing people I didn't give a damn about _anything_.  
When I caught up to the boy I wasn't surprised to find him denying my accusation. He wasn't able to hide his body language however, no matter what he claimed.  
When I had him pinned against the compartment wall I could see the uncertainty in his eyes. He didn't seem to know how to react.  
"Oi, anybody in there?" I asked, snapping my fingers in front of his face in an effort to pull his attention out of whatever thought process he was currently running through.  
"Uh, yeah," he replied finally.  
"I know you're not as stupid as you made yourself out to be back there, Kid," I stated, once again calling his bluff "so do both of us a favour and not make this anymore difficult than it has to be."  
I caught a flash of fear in his expression, replaced almost immediately by determination. Those striking teal orbs challenged my stare from underneath a mass of shaggy, matted bangs and somehow that excited me.  
Few people could maintain eye contact when I fixed them with that glare. This boy was a rarity and maybe that's why I felt a pang of disappointment when he finally sighed and relinquished my property.  
I studied the rest of his features as I returned my wallet to my pocket. He was a bit of a mess; his aforementioned dark, chocolate hair was in desperate need of a brush and a trim, and his complexion probably shouldn't have been that pale.  
All the same - and I'm not sure what made me focus on this fact - I had to admit he was rather cute under all that crud. With a proper bath and regular meals he'd probably be quite the lady killer when he reached adulthood. As it stood he didn't look to be any older than fifteen or sixteen.  
"So, wha's gonna 'appen now?" He asked, looking away as the telltale signs of a blush began to colour his cheeks. Was I really having that kind of an effect on him?  
"What are you talking about?"  
"Yer gonna turn me in righ'?"  
"I should..." I started "...but you look like you have enough to deal with."  
I wasn't expecting the hostile response my comment and gift received, but I couldn't really blame him. I could tell this kid had a temper and pride probably came along with it.  
The boy held eye contact for a moment longer before he was forced to look away again. He was flatly refusing my help, but I wasn't about to let the kid suffer, even if it was caused by his own stubborn attitude.  
I took his chin in my hand, gently turning his head back to face me so I could get his full attention. Once again I found myself blown away by the sparking ocean in his eyes.  
"Just take it, Kid. I don't have all day and you look like you'll faint if you don't get some food inside you soon." I released him, holding out the bag again. He eyed it warily but to my relief he finally accepted it without argument.  
I didn't utter another word as I returned to my carriage, leaving the kid leaning against the wall with that dumbstruck expression plastered on his face. That very same expression that would play on my mind for the rest of my journey.

"Levi, is everything alright?" Erwin asked, concern evident in his voice. Once again my concentration had wandered away from our conversation and once again the fault lay with that brat of a child.  
I'm not sure how or when it happened, but somehow the kid had taken up residence in my thoughts. He wasn't leaving easily either.  
There was just something about him. Something eerily familiar that I couldn't quite place. Certainly his eyes. Those teal eyes full of hope and stubborn determination.  
_They're just like Her eyes_  
But even as I came to that conclusion I knew that wasn't the only reason for this feeling of recognition. There was something else; something in his features I had seen before and it was driving me mad trying racking my brains for his identity.  
"Levi!" Erwin asked again with more urgency and I realised I still hadn't given him an answer.  
"I'm just peachy," I retorted, waving my current train of thought from my mind "just needlessly distracted over trivial issues."  
It wouldn't do to dwell on that kid any longer. I was unlikely to ever cross paths with him again and worrying about his situation was pointless. As tragic as it was, there was too many children on the street for me to concern myself any further with the fate of just one.  
I immediately shifted back to the original topic; business. It wasn't exactly the most riveting subject - in fact it was only barely preferable to watching paint dry - but it was vital. I had a company to manage after all.  
Survey Corporation. I can't say I was ecstatic about co-owning such a large pharmaceutical company. It was a lot of responsibility to take on, especially for someone as inexperienced as I was back then. But then it wasn't like I didn't have a choice. Nobody forced me into this role, I accepted it of my own free will because at that time it was preferable to what I had.  
Then there was Erwin Smith; the other current co-owner. He'd been by my side for the past fifteen years, supported me while I found my feet and even now I looked to him for advice when I could turn to no-one else.  
I trusted him more than I have ever trusted anyone.  
"Do you have any plans for this evening?" Erwin asked. I had an inkling where he was heading with this question and I was in two minds whether I wanted to entertain his suggestion. I wasn't about to fib about nonexistent plans however.  
"I intend to go home and spend the rest of the evening doing sod all," I explained bluntly.  
"Why don't you stay for dinner tonight?" Erwin suggested. "I'm sure Oluo won't mind the night off."  
"Oluo has had the past few nights off," I scoffed. This business trip couldn't have been completed in one day after all. However it had been a long time since the two of us had spent time together outside of work and despite the reasons for it, I couldn't deny I missed just being in his company.  
Maybe that's why I accepted his invitation, even if I knew it was going to hurt.  
I breathed a sigh of relief when we finally pulled into Paddington. I've never been a particularly social person at the best of times and I wanted nothing more than to take myself away from this dreary station - from the proverbial cattle pen it had become since train travel had become so popular.  
Maybe I was being a bit harsh; I had seen this place much busier than it was now, and despite my hurry even _I_ was forced to stop when that familiar brown and white Irish terrier crossed my path.   
Paddington Tim - the station's collection dog. He was a permanent fixture, carrying around that little box on his back and charming the general public into parting with their spare coins for widows and orphans.  
I had no intentions of ever owning a canine; they were filthy, smelly creatures who's idea of fun consisted of sniffing other dogs rears and rolling around in the freshly laid piles of horse crap on the streets. And yet I couldn't deny I had a minute soft spot for this little fellow. Couldn't deny it to myself anyway. I would deny aloud until the cows came home. I was certain however that my business partner didn't - and probably never would - believe me. The amused smirk he plastered on his face as I dropped two shillings into Tim's collection box was proof of that.  
The small dog reared up onto his hind legs, releasing three short sharp barks in gratitude as he always did before seeking a contribution from Erwin.  
"You never have been very good at saying no to him have you?" He teased, even as he followed suit placing two coins into the slot. "Maybe I should reconsider buying you a puppy for your birthday."  
I fixed him with a phlegmatic stare.  
"Don't even think it, Eyebrows," I retorted, using the nickname I had coined since I had first seen those huge caterpillars resting above his eyes, "I'm not having fleas and dog hair all over my carpet and furniture." Erwin simply chuckled. I found it all too easy to rise to his bait. It was a testament to how close we had become over the years; closer than was safe for us to admit. At least until recently.  
"Let's just get out of this place," I stated, more of an order than a suggestion. I loathed crowds at the best of times and being in a profession which required a lot of socialisation I valued every second of peace and quiet I could get. There was a list of exceptions of course, though it was limited to just a few people.  
The scene outside the exit held, if anything, even -less- of the peace and quiet I sought after. It was difficult to hear oneself think over the clattering horseshoes and rattling cartwheels.  
I found the familiar ebony carriage almost immediately, waiting patiently for me by the side of the street hitched to a black equine who fidgeted occasionally. The carriage itself was nothing special; plain and unassuming, but clean and well-kept to the high standard I had come to expect. The horse on the other hand was stunning; an expensive, beautiful mare I had recently acquired. I was glad to see her charcoal fur as neat and shiny as if I'd groomed her myself. Petra's work, naturally.  
The man holding the reins alighted from the driver's seat once he saw Erwin and myself approach. This was the Oluo I had mentioned earlier; my cook and -in a pinch- my driver. He was one of only two members of 'staff' I employed and even then I'd only hired them out of special circumstances. Either way they were both top notch.  
Oluo, however, I had never quite been able to work out. He seemed to have a high opinion of me at the very least, and it wasn't particularly subtle. He'd adopted a similar hairstyle to mine within days of moving into my house, though his dirty-blond hair held too many natural curls to be able to imitate mine entirely. He'd also become rather fond of wearing the same style of cravat with the shirt and coattails he usually donned. I wasn't certain whether to be flattered or offended by this attempted imitation.  
"Welcome back, Sir," he greeted me, holding open the door. He was never usually this polite behind closed doors, but I had long since given up on granting him permission to be informal outside the house. He never took advantage of my offer and I'd started to accept that now. I admired his dedication to keeping up appearances, even if I didn't really think of him as staff.  
Still, the polite façade didn't suit him.  
"Oluo, I'll be having dinner at Erwin's tonight," I stated, stepping onto the carriage's footplate, "I'll be heading home to clean up and change first, so please keep my horse ready." There was an expression on his face of... was that disappointment? It was hard to tell nowadays with his regular attempts to emulate my impassive look. He acknowledged my statement with a nod and closed the door behind me.  
"Levi," Erwin called to me and I leaned out of the window, "don't be late."  
"I'm insulted, Old Man" I said nothing more, instead giving Oluo the okay to proceed. Of course I wasn't as offended as my tone would suggest; it was just force of habit by now and Erwin never took it personally.  
I settled back into my seat as the carriage set off, my horse now adding to the din outside. I tuned it out as I lost myself in thought for a while. I know I'd already ordered myself to drop my previous train of thought, but I just couldn't stop that pitiful mess of a child from reentering my mind.  
'Home' was a decently sized town house in South Kensington. It was modest; smaller than the mansion my father had originally bequeathed to me and far less extravagant, but it was mine. I'd chosen it and decorated it to my own liking. I didn't need corridors full of rooms which would serve no purpose other than to collect dust, just a cosy place to provide a roof over our heads.  
I moved the second we pulled up outside the white-fronted dwelling before Oluo could get it into his mind to open the door for me. It was still a little disconcerting to be honest, even after all this time.  
I'd barely made it up the grey stone steps before the front door opened and I was greeted by the sight of a young woman dressed in maid's attire. Like Oluo, Petra insisted on looking the part. She said it would make a good impression on my clients and peers. I couldn't really argue with that.  
"Did you have a good trip, Levi?" _Un_ like Oluo, she was more fond of using my real name. She stepped aside to allow my entry as I took my coat off and hung it on the rack on the hallway. Thankfully she also knew better than to try and do the job for me, opting instead to close the door, Oluo staying outside to take care of my horse while she remained ready.  
"As well as could be expected for a business trip," I replied. I let my irritation show in my voice, comfortable enough with Petra to let my guard down at least a little. "So, boring and pointless, huh?" She pushed some of her soft auburn hair back as she spoke.  
"You know me so well." I turned away from her, aiming to head straight to the bathroom. The sooner I got this muck off the better.  
"Well enough to know when something's bothering you." Petra's comment forced me to stop in my tracks and my gaze met her own.  
"There's nothing bothering me," I replied. Even as those words left my mouth I knew they wouldn't suffice. She _did_ know me well. Maybe a little too well... "Le-vi!" Petra dragged out my name like a mother who knew her son was fibbing, but i could see the concern in those kind amber eyes.  
"Really Petra, it's nothing to worry about," I replied "just a stray niggle that will solve itself soon enough."  
Petra didn't look entirely happy with my answer, but she dropped the subject all the same. No doubt she'd worked it out herself anyway when I explained my plans for the evening; Petra was familiar with our situation.  
I excused myself to bathe and change, desperate to rid myself of the layer of soot I could always feel on my skin any time I had traveled by train. Even if I couldn't see it that didn't mean my mind wasn't convinced that it was there. Naturally the bath had played an important part in my choice of house.  
Now matter how hard I scrubbed however, I couldn't wash away the apprehension Petra had been so keen to catch onto. If anything it intensified the longer time marched on. There was a reason I hadn't spent much time with Erwin lately and while he must miss my company to have asked me, I was sceptical that it was for the same reasons I missed _him_.  
I attempted to shake such thoughts from my mind. This was a nice friendly dinner, nothing more and I couldn't avoid Erwin outside of work forever.  
It wasn't too long before I found myself outside Erwin's 'humble home'. Of course I was being facetious; it was a bloody palace compared to my own. He had rooms I don't think he'd ever actually set foot in and even the doorbell somehow managed to sound pretentious in announcing my arrival.  
I didn't miss the flash of displeasure on the face of Erwin's butler when his eyes fell on me. Not that it was unexpected, there wasn't exactly much love loss between him and I. Nile Dok; an unorthodox butler with short black hair and a trace of a mustache and goatie. From what I'd learned about upper-class etiquette since entering into this lifestyle, that kind of appearance was generally not accepted among aristocratic circles. Erwin, like myself, didn't give a crap about that sort of thing however.  
Nile ushered me inside in the usual awkward fashion and I chose not to engage the man outside of a nod of acknowledgement. I knew where Erwin would be waiting for me regardless; asking would simply be a waste of breath.  
As expected the taller man awaited me in the drawing room and I quashed my anxiety to give the illusion of indifference I was always known for.  
"I thought you didn't like that shirt." Apparently this was his greeting for me today. He had been hanging around me for far too long. He was correct however; I really wasn't overly fond of this particular number. It worked, I'm not going to deny that. The slight frilly design running alongside the button holes matched the cravat I was so fond of, or so I had been told, but it really wasn't my cup of tea.  
"It was sitting in my cupboard gathering dust. Thought I should give it an airing." I delivered my answer bluntly, relieved when he changed the subject.  
The evening passed smoothly, but I couldn't help the twinge of sadness that small talk was all we were sharing. It wasn't until we had retired back to the drawing room for drinks that Erwin addressed the behaviour I hadn't realised had been so obvious.  
"Levi, I know it's difficult, but you have to move on." I stopped, partway through lifting a glass of scotch to my lips.  
"I'm not sure what you're talking about." I brought the glass to my lips and took a sip.  
"I can read your body language well enough by now." Apparently everyone could nowadays. "And you know that's the shirt I always like to see you in."  
I had no response for that. I couldn't lie about it; I _had_ worn it for him.  
I placed my drink back down into the coaster and addressed the taller man. I hadn't been planning to say anything, but if he was going to bring it up, then I couldn't _not_ try.  
"You don't have to do this, Erwin," I stated, fighting to keep the hope that welled up inside me from showing on my face, "you don't have to give in to peer pressure like this." "Levi, you know this has been planned since I was child."  
"But you don't have any feelings for her," I countered, before a realisation hit me, "or do you? Were you just toying with me this entire time?" My question must have hit a nerve as Erwin stood and purposefully strode towards me. At six foot two, he towered over me as he leaned down, placing his hands on either side of the armrests. My heart skipped a beat at the action.  
"Is that truly what you think of me?" He asked "I promise you, you are the only one I've felt this way about."   
"That doesn't put me at ease, Eyebrows," I retorted. If anything it made me feel worse. "You're chucking your own happiness for something so trivial as appearances." "Levi, we both know we have no future together. As much as I love you, this was never going to last. We could never have a public rela-"  
He cut his sentence short. Well he couldn't really continue with my lips on his could he? With him so close I hadn't been able to resist stealing one last kiss from the man who made my heart flutter every time he was this close. He didn't protest either, pressing back into the kiss with just as much passion as he always had done. Erwin's lack of resistance sent a pang of sadness through my heart. It told me he didn't want to do this anymore than I did, but I had to admit I could see his point. To be caught in a relationship with another man brought about consequences. In the best case scenario a stint in prison. Worst case? Well I didn't like to think about that. Erwin pulled away after a short while and straightened himself up. I could see in his eyes he was chastising himself for giving into me like that.  
"Levi," he started, his stern tone indicating I would not like what he was about to say, "I can't bear to lose you entirely, but if if we can't spent time together without doing this well..." He trailed off.  
"Well what?" I prompted him to continue. I had a fair idea what those unsaid words were, but I wanted to make him say them aloud.  
"If I have to resort to only a working relationship then I will."   
That stung more than if Erwin _had_ admitted he'd just been stringing me along.  
"You bastard." Erwin looked crestfallen at the strong insult.  
"Maybe you should go home for tonight," he suggested, moving away from me to pick up his own drink from the table beside his chair, "it's been a busy week, you should get some rest."  
The finality of his tone told me not to argue. Clearly neither of us were yet over our romantic relationship enough to rekindle our platonic one, and I could see Erwin was now realising this. He was giving me a way to get out of this uncomfortable situation.  
"Yes." My reply came out a little sharper than I intended but the taller man didn't show any reaction "Thank you for the meal, Erwin."  
We left our goodbyes at that, neither of us wanting to risk saying something that may make the evening worse, and I kept my silence even after Erwin's carriage dropped me off at my own home.  
My desire for space must have been obvious, as neither Petra nor Oluo questioned my mood when I excused myself to my bedroom.  
Sleep sounded like a great idea right now.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was initially supposed to be chapter 5, while chapter 4 covered a little more of the group's attempts to get by in London, but I encountered a massive writer's block trying to write something that worked. Eventually I decided to write that chapter out completely. This way the story can at least continue. That said, I do at some point want to try writing that as its own side fic in the future.

I felt sick to my stomach.  
I hadn't had an argument this strong with Mikasa since Mum died and now here we were, standing opposite each other with a slew of angry words between us. Maybe I wouldn't have been quite as bothered if she had been wearing a furious expression to go with them, but the look on her face now was one of pure hurt. Hurt that -I- had put there, just like the idiot that I am.  
What had started this conflict had been Jean, another straggler we'd picked up during the few months we'd been here. He was a tall boy, around our age, with ash-blond hair that – like ours – had grown long and unruly out on the streets.  
He was arrogant, antagonistic and the two of us went together about as well as chalk went with cheese, but him and Mikasa were becoming close. I just hadn't realised _how_ close until today.  
Okay, so maybe it hadn't technically been Jean who started this, it was me. Me and my big stupid mouth when I had woken up to discover Mikasa had gone out to find food with him without waiting for me.  
Something about the two of them being alone bothered me; Jean fancied Mikasa, I could tell - as could Armin – and that brought out the protective brother in me.  
This morning in particular my fuse was shorter than usual. I hadn't been feeling well since I'd woken up; headache, stuffy nose, nothing unusual for our situation, but it made me more of a loose cannon than normal. That's probably why I'd laid into Mikasa so hard when she returned.  
Of course I didn't admit the real reason for my fury, but all of them saw through my ruse of just being unhappy I was left behind. It just happened that Jean was the first to call me out on it.  
“Seriously Jaeger, stop acting like a spoilt child and just admit you don't like me being near your sister!” He'd chastised.  
"Tha's go' nowt te do with it, 'orseface!" I snapped back. The nickname had originally spawned from his long and angular facial structure, and I enjoyed winding him up with it.  
"You're a poor liar," he growled back.  
"I ain' lyin'!" My protest was feeble however; they knew and nothing I could say would be able to change their minds.  
"Anyone would think you'd be better at it, what with all the practise."  
"W-wha'?" I stuttered. That statement had come out of nowhere and I felt a cold shiver run up my spine.  
"Jean!" Mikasa piped up.  
"What? I ain't gonna stand there and let you keep crying over him." There was silence while I looked from one to the other, dumbstruck. Mikasa was crying over me? To Jean?  
Mikasa avoided eye contact for a moment, looking like she was gearing up to say something before she looked up again, a determined gleam to her eyes.  
"Eren, I'm worried about you."  
"Worried? There's nowt t'be worried 'bout!" I shot back, maybe a little harsher than I'd intended.  
“I'm worried you aren't coping very well with your mother's death,"  
"Don' be ridiculous," I snapped, "it's bin _three_ years!"  
"And you've spent those three years distracting yourself from it.”  
“Wha' the 'ell yer goin' on 'bout?”  
"I mean all the effort you've put into getting us here," Mikasa explained, "into trying to look after me all the time. You're just trying to avoid facing the reality that she's gone."  
"I weren' avoidin' nowt," I growled back, “jus' cuz I like t'dream big, that don' mean I'm tryin' t'distract meself."  
That received a sigh from my sister.  
"You haven't been right since we got here," she stated, "you've been quieter to me and Armin, and when Jean got here well..."  
"Well, what?"  
"I know you've always been a bit hotheaded, but damn can't you just give Jean a break? You two have done nothing but argue since he joined us, and I've noticed more often than not recently you're the instigator."  
I didn't look at Jean. I didn't need to see the condescending smirk I knew he had plastered on his face right now. If I had I might have outright thumped him.  
"Well, 'e ain' exactly innocent!" I snapped back. Hearing Mikasa defend that twat hurt. Surely she could see what a ratbag he was. He always wanted to go the easy way, always interested in what _he_ could get out of things.  
I expected Jean to stick his oar in, but he remained uncharacteristically silent. Instead it was Mikasa who once again addressed my statement.  
“This isn't about Jean," She replied, and I could tell from the sound of her voice she was struggling to find the words. "This is about us. We used to be so close, but now I feel like you're just turning your back on me."  
"Me turnin' _my_ back?!" I exclaimed, letting my rage take control "Wha' 'bout yers? Goin' te _'im_ instead o' me!" I tilted my head in Jean's direction, though there was no question to whom I was referring.  
I saw a tinge of pink colour Mikasa's cheeks before she looked away, and I was hit with the possibility that she just might like him too.  
"Jean actually listens to me."  
I felt like someone had just thrust a sharp blade into my chest.  
"An' 'ow'd yer know I wouldn've?!" My voice was raised, but I didn't care.  
"Eren..."  
"No! No, yer ne'er tried!"  
"Eren!" Her eyes were back on me again, and her voice held a sharpness I had never heard from her before. I found myself cowering a little. "I _did_ try, but you changed the subject every time I brought up anything about the past. I never pressed the issue because I could tell you weren't ready to talk about it. But _I_ was, Eren. I've been needing to all this time. Don't take it out on Jean because he gave me a shoulder to cry on while you couldn't.”  
There was a truth to what she was telling me, and had this been a different situation I might have reacted a little differently. Sadly everything had been thrown at me in the space of a couple of minutes and I was still reeling from the shock. Maybe that's why all I could garner was anger. Anger, and humiliation. I could feel Armin and Jean's eyes on me. I could feel their judgement without even looking at them.  
I couldn't think straight.  
I felt like a cornered animal.  
“Yea? Maybe the two o' yers should go fin' yer own place since yer so sick of me!” I felt a brief rush of rage-induced dizziness as I practically yelled those words at Mikasa. “Or better yet, _I'll_ go, so yer don' go puttin' yerselves out fo' me nomore.”  
And that's what brought us to the situation I mentioned at the beginning.  
I turned away from my sister's gaze quickly. I couldn't take that hurt expression anymore and I could feel the tears starting to well up in my own eyes. There was no way I was about to let myself cry here, especially not in front of Jean.  
I heard her call my name as I dashed out of the door, but I wasn't ready to turn back to her right now. I needed to cool off, to pull myself out from the deluge I was currently drowning under.  
I didn't stray too far; I had no intention of going through with my threat, and the guilt that I'd allowed such words out of my mouth in the first place was already starting to claw painfully at my chest, especially considering she hadn't followed me out.  
I secreted myself in an alley and felt the tears start to fall before I'd even sat down. I didn't try to hold them back.  
Mikasa's words circled through my mind now that I had the time to think on them properly. I _hadn't_ been myself since we got here. I'd allowed myself to build all my hopes on the idea that London meant great things for us. I hadn't even considered the fact that just getting here wouldn't provide sunshine and rainbows.  
No, let me rephrase that, I hadn't _wanted_ to consider it. The fact that we would need a miracle to get out of our current situation _wherever_ we were hurt too much, and so I shoved it aside, pretended it really was as simple as moving location and tried my best to keep both our spirits up.  
I never expected it to actually happen, and now that it had I had nothing left to aim for, nothing to stop me from allowing the thoughts to run rampant.  
How selfish. I was lost in the bowels of my own self-pity and it hadn't even crossed my mind that Mikasa was suffering just as badly, or worse considering the death of her own parents as well as mine.  
I was a terrible brother.  
A chill wind picked up, making me shiver. Winter was well and truly on the horizon and I considered returning to the warehouse.  
Sense told me I needed to apologise to Mikasa. It was the least she deserved after all, but I feared she would want to talk it out and the more I thought about it the more I realised I couldn't. I didn't know how to put my feelings into words, at least not right now.  
Maybe that's the reason I remained sitting here, even when the heavens opened and dropped torrents of chilled water on me. Maybe that's the reason why, when I finally did trudge home, after dark and soaked through to the skin, I blanked everyone and isolated myself in the corner with only my thoughts for company.  
I think Mikasa was going through the same mental anguish. She made no attempt to talk to me and judging by the dirty looks Jean was throwing my way, I can only assume she'd once again sought solace in him while I was out. I was feeling guilty all over again.  
Armin _did_ try to talk to me, but I just gave him an uneasy smile and uttered my usual response of “I'm fine” before I curled up onto the ground and attempted to seek my own solace in the realm of sleep.  
Jean was right, I really did lie a lot.

 _Sitting out in the rain was an idiotic move_ , I concluded when I woke the next morning. My head was pounding, my throat dry and there was a tightness in my chest that left me a little short of breath, even whilst laying still like this.  
I was used to illness; it came with the territory, but that didn't make it any easier to deal with. I wanted nothing more than to let myself fall back into slumber, basking in the warmth radiating from whoever it was laying up against me. Unfortunately my lungs were not going to allow me the relief of sleep. Instead they forced me to sit up while they practically coughed themselves up through my throat.  
"Morning," came the voice from the body beside me.  
"Sorry Armin," I replied, my own voice croaky, "did I wake yers?"  
"I was awake already," Armin replied, sitting up and flashing me that innocent grin. He always managed to remain so cheerful, despite what he had already been through throughout his life. He still had low self esteem however, always apologising, always worried about not being useful. He couldn't see just how intelligent he was. Our lives would have been a lot harder without his intellect.  
If anything _I_ was the one dragging us down.  
And that's when the events of yesterday suddenly slammed painfully to the front of my mind again, joining the headache that was already giving me grief. I rubbed my forehead in an effort to ease both and groaned when the effort failed.  
"You alright?" Armin asked, his voice full of genuine concern.  
"Yeah, nowt I ain' dealt with before," I replied weakly.  
I turned my attention to our surroundings, attempting to focus my blurry vision on the dilapidated warehouse we had hunkered down in. Quite frankly it was a tip; random rubbish littered about here and there, along with a collection of tatty, dirty blankets we'd scavenged. It was drafty, but it kept the rain off... Well... When certain people actually decided to stay inside.  
There was something missing however.  
"Where's our Mikasa?"  
"She's with Jean, looking for breakfast," Armin responded tentatively.  
It shouldn't have, but it felt like Mikasa was rubbing salt in a fresh wound.  
"Why didn' yer wake me? I'd've 'elped 'em."  
"You're sick, Eren," Armin stated, tactfully neglecting to bring up the other reason why my company wouldn't have been appreciated. "we weren't gonna let you out there like tha- Eren!"  
I ignored his call as I staggered upright, pausing to steady myself when my head swam.  
“E-Eren, no-one'll blame you if you sleep the rest of the day,” Armin stuttered, getting up to follow me.  
“I'm fine, Armin.” I gave another cough. “I jus' need some fresh air.” _Yeah, fresh lungfuls of horse manure and coal dust. Just what I needed_  
“But Eren!”  
“I won' be long, Armin!” I snapped. Guilt clawed at me when I saw him recoil. -Great, now I've upset Armin too-, I mentally chided myself before taking a calming breath and uttering a deflated apology  
"It's okay," Armin comforted. He looked like he was about to say more but thought better of it. I would've called him out had I not had an inkling of what the subject would be.  
I forced a smile onto my face which he met with a sympathetic frown. He was sharp; he could probably see right through my façade.  
Regardless I made a move towards the door without another word to him. I knew he wouldn't follow me. Ever since we'd settled in this old warehouse, Armin had been loathe to so much as poke his face out of the door, terrified of being caught and dragged kicking and screaming back to the workhouse. He wouldn't go into the reasons why, but he was adamant they would be looking for him. All he was say is that he was the favourite, and there was a haunted tone to the way he'd said it. We never asked him anything more after that.  
The minute I stepped outside the building I began to question why I thought this was a good idea.  
The wind from yesterday was still blowing, bringing with it not just the cold, but also the dust from the nearby coal yards, which irritated the back of my already dry throat. Of course, the low temperature wasn't exactly helping my headache either and on top of everything I had no idea where I was planning to go.  
I suppose my original idea had been to track down Mikasa and Jean, but now I realised I didn't really have the energy for another confrontation. Nor could I bring myself to go back inside.  
I shoved my hands into what was left of my trouser pockets and started out, picking a random direction to wander in.  
I'd been here long enough that I was getting familiar with the area around us, and I knew the way I'd picked would eventually lead to Hyde Park. Maybe that was a good thing; wandering around the open space would help to clear my head and hopefully give me the good sense to return to the warehouse, pass out in the corner and pretend the rest of the world didn't exist for a while like Armin had suggested.  
The alley opened out onto a main street, the familiar sight and scent of manure on the road greeting me. It hadn't been cleared yet, making crossing a bit dodgy, but nothing I wasn't already used to.  
Then I heard that voice. That same calm, deep voice that had sent my heart racing all those months ago. I paused, looking around for the source and sure enough, I found the short aristocrat exiting from a house further up. He was wearing a long, dark navy coat this time but that same dour expression remained on his face. I wondered if this guy ever smiled.  
With my mind so thoroughly distracted I didn't even register the loud trotting behind me until I was almost trampled right under the horse's hooves. I managed to throw myself out of the way in the nick of time, but the effort left me reeling on the roadside. I heard the driver yelling God-knows-what at me as the cart speed past, but I wasn't in the right frame of mind to take note.  
It got _His_ attention however.  
I fought through the dizziness in an attempt to keep my composure as I approached him as quickly as possible. He hadn't made a move to get into his carriage yet. I wondered if he recognised me too.  
"'Oi-" I stopped abruptly when the coachman stepped between us, staring me down with an expression to match the man behind him.  
"Oluo." A hand rested on the coachman's shoulder, gently easing him aside. "I know this boy."  
_Why did my heart leap at those words?_  
"So, is that how you get your jollies, Brat?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. "Playing chicken with the traffic?"  
I searched for a witty response, but found my thoughts too incoherent.  
"No-" was about all I could get out before the wind picked up again. It cut through me like a knife and I couldn't hold back the shiver. There was a sigh before I found myself being dragged up into the carriage.  
“'EY! 'old up!” I protested as I was practically thrown down onto the seat, while he settled himself down opposite me.  
“You were shivering,” he explained, those steely eyes studying me just as they had on the train. He tilted his head slightly to one side. “Christ, you look like shit, Kid.”  
I was too taken aback by the coarse language this aristocrat was spouting to respond to his statement. At least I knew now it hadn't just been a one-off on the train.  
“Oi,” he continued, clicking his fingers in front of me, “Still with me?”  
“Yea,” I replied, “I jus' didn' think I'd be seein' yers again is all.”  
“So what are you after?”  
“Wha?”  
“Money? Food? Medicine?” He asked “I'm not stupid, Brat. You're here to see if you can get anything else out of me aren't you?"  
"N-no, tha's no' it!" I exclaimed. I was such an idiot, of course he was going to think that.  
"Then what are you here for?" I could hear the irritation in his voice, a far cry from the softer tone he'd been using just before.  
Of course his question was a valid one; what _was_ I doing here? I'd just seen him and made a beeline for his position.  
"Wha-wha's yer name?" I blurted out suddenly, ending the question with a brief coughing fit I couldn't hold back anymore.  
"What?"  
I gave myself a minute to get some air back into my aching lungs before I tried again. My chest hurt with every intake of breath.  
“Wha's yer name?” I asked again once I'd recovered enough to form words.  
"Why do you want to know?" He was still skirting around my question, but I was glad to hear some of the gentle tone had returned to his voice. The thing is, I didn't have the answer for that question either.  
"Please?"  
He gave me a long hard stare like he was mulling my request over in his mind.  
"Levi," he responded finally. It felt like such an achievement.  
"I'm Eren...” I had more I wanted to say but another coughing fit cut me off.  
Breathing was becoming a struggle.  
“Eren? Oi,” Levi said, bringing me back to my senses. This wasn't good. The last thing I wanted was to collapse right here in Levi's carriage.  
“S-sorry,” I stuttered through the breathlessness. I rubbed my forehead. “Just... thanks fer 'elpin' me, Levi.”  
I didn't wait to see if he had anything more to say before climbing back out of the carriage, stumbling when my feet made contact with the ground.  
I attempted to straighten myself up, but between the coughing and the pain I lost my balance. I fell against the wall, seeking the cold, red brick for support while I tried to will the dizziness away.  
"Hey, Kid, are you okay?" Levi's question sent a jolt of adrenalin through me, and I used that to regain my composure. He'd already made it clear he was expecting me to beg for something and I would feel guilty if he felt he had to help me now, especially if he thought I was faking. Besides, I'd get over it. I always had before.  
"I'm fine," I confirmed, flashing him a false smile, before scarpering as fast as my body would let me.  
That had to be the most embarrassing situation I think I had ever been in. It hadn't gone anything like the hypothetical meetings I'd played out in my head, though that was probably because I had forgotten to factor in the class disparity. Three years on and I _still_ thought the upper classes would speak to me on equal terms.  
Another coughing fit came, sapping the last reserves of energy I had left. I sank down against the iron railings of someone's garden, hoping a quick rest would help me regain my bearings. It didn't. Every attempt to take a decent amount of air was agony. I couldn't manage more than short, shallow breaths, and my vision was starting to darken. I closed my eyes.  
I thought I heard my name being called, but by this point I was so exhausted I let myself slip into the comforting darkness.


End file.
